"What's the matter?" Fowler demanded. As he spoke, a pair of ebony talons shot from the water on both sides of the bow. There was no hide over the gnarled fingers, and even the wrists exhibited bare patches of gray, weathered bone. The claws dug into the wales, and the little cog's bow dipped into the sea. The half-ore released the tiller and stepped forward. "Cowards! Stand and fight!"

For the first time since Ruha had boarded, the cap- tain's words seemed to have no effect on his crew. The bravest of them watched over their shoulders as they opened a hatch or door, but most simply screamed in ter- ror and hurled themselves through the nearest opening.

Their panic surprised the witch, for until now they had exhibited the unwavering discipline of men who knew their lives depended upon working together. She pulled a small crystal of quartz from her pocket, at the same time catching Fowler's arm with her free hand.

"Your men are braver than this," she said. "It is only the dragon's magic frightening them."

"Only?" the half-ore scoffed. "It will be enough to sink us!"

Ruha pointed her crystal over the ship's bow. "I am not frightened."

The dragon's head rose into view and, despite her claim, the witch was so shocked she could not keep the syllables other incantation from fleeing her mind. She found herself staring not into the slit pupils of a wyrm's diabolic eyes, but into the vastly more sinister void of two

black, empty sockets. Though a thin layer of shriveled black scales still clung to the beast's brow and cheeks, its snout was a fleshless blade of cracked bone and cav- ernous nostrils. Even the creature's curved horns, once as sturdy and long as horse lances, were mere splintered stumps of their ancient magnificence.

"Umberlee have mercy!" Fowler ripped a golden ring from his ear and hurled it overboard, a piece of bloody lobe still dangling from the clasp. "Save us!"